am not the only one aboard who is wonder
ing at this moment whether by the next day
we'll be called heroes or just plain fools.
1500. On course-due south. Our flight
path is planned to take us straight down the
18°30' meridian.
"Ready to take her up to 22 ?" Commander
Dickerson asks Marine Staff Sergeant Arthur
L. Kring, the navigator on duty. A check of
the fuel chart. Answer: Thumbs-up.
At the new altitude of 22,000 feet, our
plane will perform at top efficiency. When
our fuel load is lighter, air speed will in
crease accordingly and we can fly still higher.
This step-climbing procedure helps get the
last extra mile out of the fuel.
1530. Message relayed from McMurdo:
"Due to worsening weather do not intend to
launch C-130's over Pole Station." We will
have to do without the airborne communi
cations relay we had hoped to use at the Pole.
1600. Weatherman reports tail winds blow
ing from 300° at 50 knots. This is a good
boost for us. Outside temperature down to
-24. Ground speed estimated at 300 knots.
This should help put us ahead of schedule.
Things are going so smoothly we can almost
dare to breathe easily.
1630. Our sun is starting to set. Bright
bands are streaking the horizon over the
whole southwest segment of our sky.
1700. It's nearly dark outside. I've re
lieved Commander Dickerson at the controls.
We're on autopilot at 25,000 feet. The red
glow of our instrument panel almost matches
the last scarlet rays of sunset. We're nearing
our friends in the South African ship. Have
them now as a small bright blip on our radar.
1715. We pass over the Transvaal. Can't
see her for the cloud cover. Must be a lonely
sea down there. Comdr. W. D. Hogg sends a
message of "best regards" from Commodore
M.R. Terry-Lloyd of the South African
Navy, and adds his and the Transvaalcrew's
wishes of "Godspeed."
We relay our grati
tude to them and to all the South Africans
who contributed so much to our flight.
1800. Communications growing spotty
with the Transvaal.We lose contact with the
Ysterplaat Air Force Station on the mainland
at about the same time we pass over the ship.
Our outside temperature gauge continues to
drop. We are beginning to feel Antarctica's
icy breath.
1900. Members of the crew start to get into
their cold-weather gear. We'll lower the cabin
temperature to remain comfortable. Heavy
thermal boots and long-handle underwear
may be awkward aboard the plane, but if we
have an emergency we don't want everyone
scrambling at the last moment to get shoe
laces tied. We also turn on the electric heater
blankets on the plane's skis, to keep our hy
draulic system from freezing.
1930. We've passed latitude 60° south.
Must be nearing the pack ice, but our radar
has no definite reflection yet. I'm going back
to get into my long johns. We're starting to
climb again. This should bring us to 27,000
feet. The moon is up and nearly full. Tops
of the clouds below us look innocently silver.
Haze still ahead.
2000. We're nearing our PSR-"Point of
Safe Return."
They used to call this the
"Point of No Return"-more poetic, but I
suppose the Navy prefers the note of opti
mism in "Point of Safe Return." Our "go or
no go" point is 2,347 statute miles out from
Cape Town. This brings us almost to the
coast of the white continent.
Navigators Kring and Lt. (jg) Donald E.
Miller have their heads together over calcu
lations for celestial lines of position. Miller is
using the sextant, still the navigator's best
friend in this desolate world where all those
wonderful electronic black boxes don't come
to much. Our only guideposts here are the
first magnitude stars Canopus, Altair, An
tares, and the bright planet Saturn.
Our lovely tail wind continues. It occurred
to me to thank God for that help, because
if a wind of such velocity had been on our
nose or even a bit ahead of our beam, we
probably could not have made it.
2029. We're out of communications range
with the ship. Our last position report had to
be sent out "blind," uncertain whether any
one could read us. Now we can hear the Rus
sian station at Mirnyy transmitting weather
data in Morse code.
2045. Over the PSR! Past our point of
crucial decision in flying style! Two solid
celestial fixes put us 15 minutes ahead of flight
plan. The "Howgozit" chart shows we're
slightly high on fuel consumption. We're
climbing to 30,000 feet. Outside air temper
ature reads -50°.
Frost is forming on the in
side of our windshield.
2120. We've made it to the coast! Radar
shows mountain ranges just inland. Celestial
lines and radar agree that we're right on
course-running straight down the notch
between the S0r Rondane Mountains on our
left and the Wohlthat Mountains on our right.
We've also picked up our communications
again and talked to the Pole. Feel as if we're
on the way home!
2130. McMurdo Station booming in on 461